A Message To My Sister

Let me preface this by stating that the following passage was actually a Facebook message that I sent to my sister Erin following her questions of what I would like for Christmas and would I like a scarf again or some other accessory? The following is my response.


Erin-

I'm not flying out to Seattle until Spring now as I have to save up some cash before then. So it would be best to ship it directly to her or ship it home and have us ship it to her. Whichever is cheapest.

I can make the Idawahio shirt happen. Oh, yes, I can make it happen...

Honestly, I wish I was that cool type of person who wore skinny jeans, interesting asymmetrical tops with a slight drop shoulder, some sort of bold necklace or earrings, a wide belt, cute boots or vintage inspired shoes, a fedora, fake glasses and a scarf to tie it all together kind of person but you know what?

I'm not.

Let's face facts. I will never be that indie fashion wearing person I worship in my mind's eye. I wear jeans. Tank tops. T-shirts over those tank tops for a layering effect if it gets cold. Sweatshirts. I am not fashion-forward, though I long to be. Each year I promise myself, "This is it, Katie. This is your year to show the world how cute you can actually look in well-fitted button down plaid shirts paired with cool knee socks and tights. You will buy those vintage cowboy boots you drool over at the antiques store because, godammit, you are worth it! You don't need to wear those worn-out Adidas knock-offs for the rest of your life. You have a choice! You have the creativity! You. Have. The. POWER!"

But I don't. I have an aversion to clothes shopping. I don't know why. Last time I was at the Mall of America I wandered around, clutching my coat to my chest and clenching my gloves in my fists willing myself to transport to any place but this cesspool of mindless consumerism and clothing made to look cool despite it's shitty construction. News flash, Western-Hemisphere, 12-year-olds in China don't sew so hot. Make it your damn selves you selfish, selfish assholes.

So thinking about how horribly the garments were made, thinking about the social injustices of our fashion industry, thinking about how many calories were in that Auntie Anne's pretzel with cheese that Mom kept pushing on me, thinking about how easily one could get lost in such a huge mall that you could assimilate to the culture of consumption and you could lose your soul in the shiny gadgetry of the Sharper Image store, thinking about how none of the clothes I would try on in any of the stores were going to fit me just the way I want them to or they wouldn't be made to my standards or they wouldn't look just like I want it to or how the hell would I even know what looks good together anyway? What if I look like I'm mentally ill second grader in all of my mis-matchery? Only my friend Anna can pull off that look... Why didn't I wear more eyeliner today? Why is Mom taking so long in the Long Tall Sally store?! DO I HAVE LIPSTICK ON MY TEEEEEETH?! WHY IS IT HARD TO BREATHE IN HERE?!

And so that's the story of how I had a minor panic attack in America's largest mall.



Long story short. I don't wear scarves.



Can you get me a couple carafes?



Lil' Hughes

PS. Kidding about the carafes, but only slightly. Get me whatever the hell you want. Or don't get me anything at all. Send me a scrap of paper with, "I.O.U. nothing. Fuck off." and I'd probably frame it and hang it on my wall. Yeah... actually do that. It would look cool in my living room with the new theme I'm devising.





I send really long emails.